


Babylon I: Once Upon a Time

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Series: Bablyon [1]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Firefly
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Future Fic, Kid Fic, Pregnancy, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the Colonial fleet made its first treaties with the Alliance; or, a new bedtime story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babylon I: Once Upon a Time

_Once Upon a Time_

“Tell me a story,” Ben insisted, watching his mother and father prepare for the fancy party being held downstairs in this very house tonight. Ben Adama had never lived in a place or time where this wasn’t part of life, his father fussing with a bow-tie or the smell of his mother’s expensive perfume as his father skimmed his hand over the silk and embroidery on her gowns and salwar kameez and all the shinies Mother wore. Mother always let him choose her earrings for the party, always and without fail, before they put him to bed and promised he’d see them in the morning.

Tonight she was wearing long silver earrings that sparkled with tiny diamonds that winked at Ben as he snuggled deeper into his parents’ enormous bed, which was big enough for six boys and a dog or two to boot. It was Dad’s turn to tell the story, so he’d finished fussing and had turned his attention to Ben while Mother touched her hair with discontent.

“So what do you want to hear tonight?” Dad asked, ruffling Ben’s hair. “Shall I tell the brave adventures of the Colonial Fleet against the Cylons again?”

“I like when Mom tells that one better,” Ben said truthfully. “She leaves in all the good parts.”

“Does she?” Dad asked, as Mother chuckled ruefully.

“I want you to tell the story of what happened right after the fleet first reached this solar system,” Ben said. “You never tell that story. All your stories end when Galactica meets Serenity, and then we all live happily ever after. But there has to be more story than that. How did Mother go from being a president to being a senator? How did we get this house? What happened? Tell that story, Dad.”

Mother half-glided into the room, looking very glamorous in her gown. “Our son is growing up,” she said with a mysterious smile. “It’s not really a very exciting story, Ben. Mostly there are politics and meeting people and **girl** things.”

“You told me calling something girl things is just a way to deni…deni…say impolite things,” Ben said, knowing she was only teasing but wanting to show he listened. “I want to know. What happened after you met Mal and the Serenity crew?”

Dad, after sharing another funny and mysterious glance with Mother, shrugged. “The first thing that happened after finding Serenity was that we met with the Alliance,” he said. “And the Alliance, well? That was when they were greedier and eviler than they are now, and they told us they thought a fair price for us settling was everything we had and four years’ indenture to boot.”

This was not part of the usual story. “Indenture us?” Ben asked, eyes wide. “But the Colonials are the bravest folk in the whole ‘verse! They’ve asked Mother to be president five times and you twice!”

“At the time, we didn’t know each other so well,” Mother pointed out, lifting a beautiful pearl-and-diamond necklace that Dad fastened around her neck with a smile and a kiss. “We were refugees with shiny new guns, FTL drives, and Cylons chasing us. And I was tired and discouraged, and two months pregnant with you. We didn’t seem a threat.”

Ben beamed. Mother knew how much Ben liked when the stories had him in them. “Start there, Dad,” he ordered, watching his mother pull on her gloves with another chuckle. “That sounds like a good place to start.”

Dad snorted. “As you wish, o true son of your illustrious mother,” he said. “Let’s begin at a good moment. There we were, about to sign our first treaty with the Alliance…”

* * *

_Six months after Serenity…_

“Have we got the right of how these people are all related yet?” Mal asked, watching the small Colonial detachment walk onto Serenity with Kaylee. “I never cease to be surprised. Found out just yesterday that Miz President Roslin’s a married lady.”

“Yesterday?” Kaylee asked, eating berries and shaking her head. “I knew that first thing. One of the guards called her Mrs. Adama and so I asked. It ain’t no secret, Captain.”

“Adama?” Mal said. “So she’s married to the admiral, I suppose. Explains why the young captain attends to her so smart. Speaks well of him, tendin’ his stepma so.”

Kaylee, to Mal’s consternation, began to giggle. “Speaks better of him, tending to his wife so,” she pointed out. “Don’t you think?”

“Captain Adama’s her husband?” Mal said, a bit stunned. “Ain’t he a bit young for her?”

“Young, devoted, cute, and can’t keep his hands off her, and vice versa,” Kaylee said with a sigh. “I caught ’em at it on the shuttle the other day. They remind me of Zoe and Wash some. I think it’s why Zoe keeps away from them — it must pain her some to see a couple that happy.”

Mal nodded thoughtfully, trying not to accept that the President and her young husband had been at it on his boat. There were enough troubles of the day, and ever since this flock of lost sheep had jumped out of nowhere looking for Earth-That-Was, Mal had found himself in the middle of things.

Hadn’t quite wanted or expected to be; Mal had wanted to do some trade with folk who would pay shiny and then be on his way. But then Laura Roslin, damn her eyes, had smiled at him. Told him that honest men were the rarest commodity she knew of, and wouldn’t he please stay and advise, Captain Reynolds?

Maybe Mal wasn’t so surprised about Captain Mr. Adama. Miz Roslin was his kind of crazy — honorable, just, and not above trickery to get her way. He reckoned if she wanted a man, he was hers.

Add to that fact that Laura Roslin’s alien fleet had better guns, better ships, better technology, better everything except a planet and the raw materials to keep developing their better. The Alliance wouldn’t have a prayer of fighting them if there was even a million Colonials left. But even with the rag-tag fifty thousand hanging about on the rim, Mal was still betting on the lady.

Of course, he hadn’t figured Captain Apollo to be Roslin’s man — he was so clearly his father’s lookout, but taking a second look at the happy couple? It was clear that Miz President Roslin was powerfully fond of her young husband. Mal hoped it was vice versa, and it was clear the boy was fond enough, but he was a stiff one in any case. Damn shame, too, considering his gorram wife was old enough to be his mother and twice as fun and daring.

“Madam President,” Mal hailed from his position on the catwalk. Roslin smiled and raised her hand in greeting. “Captain Adama.”

“Captain Reynolds,” Laura said warmly, smiling before she turned to her husband and said, sotto voce, “We should get you pants like his, husband of mine.”

“Should I be jealous of that?” Lee asked quietly, smiling back. “You’re spending a lot of time with Mal, and he is terribly pretty. And now I find you like his pants.”

Laura snorted and put her hand on her stomach with a significant raise of her eyebrow. “Two months and counting, o creator of my newest lump,” she pointed out. “And you doubt my fidelity now? Over tight pants?”

“Never,” Lee said. “Just the Alliance, Malcolm Reynolds’s intentions, and everyone and everything else in this frakked situation.”

Mal finished his moseying toward the Colonial delegation and shook Lee’s hand with a new vigor. “Kaylee tells me you two are happily wed,” he said. “Right smart of you, Captain. Got yourself a fine woman.”

“Well, ah, thank you,” Lee said awkwardly, confused why that was the opening line in their latest discussion. It wasn’t like the marriage, as compared to the pregnancy, was a secret. “Any new updates on the settlement treaty?”

“Not much, but don’t worry none. They’ll settle you, Captain. Alliance is scared of your wife,” Mal said. “Word spreads and she’s mighty popular out here in the rim. Ever since those Articles of Colonization were disseminated, the Alliance has had nothing but trouble brewing. Folk think Mrs. Adama would make an excellent leader, once she’s a full citizen here.”

Laura, who didn’t surprise easily, shot an alarmed look toward Lee, who had immediately tensed up at the word leader for reasons Mal didn’t understand.

“That’s — oh, dear,” Laura said, sighing. “Mal, I don’t want to run for any office. That was never my intention. In fact, I plan to retire once the Colonial people are settled.”

“Surely you can delay that retirement a little,” Mal said. “You’re clearly a good damn leader, and this job is worth doing right, Madam President.”

“It certainly is,” Lee interrupted. “However, my wife is pregnant, and so it is important that she get settled as soon as…”

Kaylee squealed at the top of her lungs, giving away that she had been listening to them, despite Mal’s express orders to the contrary.

“You’re having a baby?” she asked in full voice. “Oh, shiny!”

Mal grimaced, and noticed, to his consternation, that the guards with the President and her man looked absolutely gobsmacked. One hell of a secret to be keeping at her age.

“Kaylee,” Mal said, looking up. “What the guay are you doing listening like that? These is sensitive negotiations, not Inara’s latest clients to ogle.”

“Wasn’t ogling. Alliance is asking permission to start dockin’ with Serenity, Captain,” Kaylee said, bouncing her way toward the Colonial party. “There’s big problems. Two Cylon raiders crossed the line, and Alliance could barely shut ’em down even with the tips the Colonials gave ’em. They lost eighteen ships just getting one.”

Captain Adama’s eyes widened, and he turned to his wife with genuine alarm. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “I need to contact Galactica immediately.”

Laura nodded and then turned and smiled at Kaylee, hiding some of her clear dismay and worry.

“Are you happy about the baby?” Kaylee asked.

“We haven’t told anyone yet,” Laura said. “It’s terrifying, really. I should be expecting my first grandchild, not my firstborn, but here I am.”

“You’ll be a good mom,” Kaylee said encouragingly. “And what Mal said, you know, about being a leader? He sprung it on you wrong. Said it all wrong, too.”

“Little Kaylee,” Mal said sternly. “Stop hasslin’ Miz Roslin on the subject. If she don’t want to do it, she don’t need to consider it.”

“It’s all right, Mal,” Laura said, regarding Kaylee with strangely luminous eyes, kind of the way River’s got when she was about to say something unusual. “What do you want me to consider, Kaylee?”

“Well, ma’am, you are a bona fide heroine,” Kaylee began. “And Simon — Dr. Tam, my boyfriend, very smart and educated — he says that your form of government could bring a much-needed revolution to this system. He read all the Articles of Colonization once they were translated, and he thinks even them on the central planets will cotton to ’em, once things get out about Miranda.”

Laura nodded slowly. The Tams had told her about the obscene experiments on River, and about the attempt to control the people of Miranda with Pax, all of which had alarmed Bill Adama to the point where he was considering finding another system to settle instead, or to ignore the Alliance warnings and seek Earth-That-Was.

Indeed, thirty million corpses had almost convinced Laura the same, if it weren’t for the basic decency of the people not under the yoke of the Alliance. They didn’t deserve this any more the the Colonial people, not really…

“And what about me?” Laura asked. “All of this can be true without needing me to do more than surrender my power and agree not to run for office. If what you’re saying is true, I ought to agree to that.”

“No, ma’am, that’s just not true,” Kaylee said. “You’re more than likely the most powerful person in this ‘verse right now, and if you just retire to a little cabin on some gorram rock, Alliance’ll think it’s won. And it has to be you. Folks are scared of the military the Colonies have, but if it were you, they’d just think you was a nice lady, and now that you’re going to have a baby, they’d underestimate you something fierce.”

“And the Colonies will need serious representation in the Parliament,” Mal added. “It’s why I suggested that the Colonies have a Senator until final settlement agreements were pounded out.”

“I bet they’ll give you a nice house with a nursery and servants, if you was the leader of the Colonial contingent,” Kaylee added, smiling hopefully. “Set you up properly.”

“If the Cylons don’t come and kill us all first,” Laura said, looking touched and a little skeptical of the plan the two had put before her. Mal nodded.

“God willin’, if we all live,” he added. “Speaking of Cylons, your husband ran off this boat awful damn fast. Are we in any immediate danger?”

“Not yet,” Lee said, rejoining his wife with an out-of-breath sigh. “So far the defenses are holding, but the Alliance will be playing hardball with us now that we’ve definitely brought the Cylon threat to this system.”

Laura glanced at Lee, and something seemed to click in her head. “Let them try,” she said. “I think our position in these negotiations has just changed.”

* * *

The Alliance man was called Bishop Artimer, and Mal didn’t like him much at all. He kept looking at Laura Roslin as if she were some kind of bug-eyed alien critter from the vids, and making small comments that suggested they were all mad for trusting their fates to a jumped-up lady schoolteacher.

“Let us not forget that you are asking us, out of the goodness of our hearts, to settle nearly fifty thousand destitute refugees on our worlds without even mentioning renumeration,” Artimer said. “Worse yet, you just happen to have brought an incredible military threat in the form of these improbable evil and impossible-to-detect robots. I’m afraid all of this is out of the question.”

Mal slammed his palm on the table and began swearing at Artimer in salty, vulgar Chinese. “You’d agreed to everything, before you even agreed to come visit Serenity. What do you think you’re doing now, changing your mind about the basic tenets of the agreement?” he asked.

“This was before the Colonials brought the Cylon attack down upon us,” Artimer said. “Things have changed radically, Captain Reynolds. At this juncture, I think that Miss Roslin, Captain Adama, and yourself may even need to serve as prisoners to safeguard…”

Laura began to laugh, as if she’d been waiting for just this moment. “Prisoner?” she asked. “Things have changed, Mr. Artimer, but I am still the President of the Twelve Colonies, and at this point, the President of the Alliance if I so choose. You have no authority to make me your prisoner.”

Artimer looked at her, confused as everyone else. “Woman, are you quite mad?” he asked. “You’re the president of no one and nothing at all. You have nothing to bargain with, and you’re still running from your robots. And you strut and tell me…”

“I have nothing. Except weapons that will repel the Cylon attacks, and the strong and absolute loyalty of the 50,000 people who stand between you and genocide,” Laura said crisply. “The situation has most definitely changed. Before, you intended to beggar the Colonies and force assimilation and indentured servitude because we have what you want and you have what we need. But terms are different. The Cylon threat is real, and my military is the only force that can prevent the demise of the Alliance. Furthermore, I have recently learned the Alliance is a corrupt and illegitimate government, and that their major purpose in these negotiations is to prevent any chance that I gain any power.”

Artimer gaped at Laura, and then at Mal, who smirked smugly, and then back at Laura, who was standing and staring him down coldly. She had taken off her glasses and the entire room was focused on her and what she’d say next.

“Madam President Roslin,” Artimer said, tumbling over the words like a nervous schoolboy. “Clearly, you’ve been misinformed by…”

“Rebels and traitors?” Laura asked, arching an eyebrow. “My kind of people, seeing **real** Alliance hospitality firsthand. So listen to me, Artimer, and listen close. I don’t have time for your petty power plays, or the Alliance’s scheming. You will grant my people asylum and status as permanent residents of the Alliance, or my people, including Galactica and its staff — will leave your system immediately. Do you understand?”

Artimer choked. “You can’t DO that!” he said.

“The hell I can’t,” Laura said. “I’m the leader of my people. You are a third-rate bully with the brain of an ant. So much so, in fact, that I am going to dictate a new treaty, and you will return to the Alliance with it within the hour, and it WILL be approved, or I will leave and you can try negotiating with Cylons.”

Mal wanted to cheer, wanted to do something, but he was supposed to be responsible and not a petty thug in the face of Alliance defeat. Even leaning back and putting his boots on the table would probably be inappropriate.

“Well, man, let’s get out some paper,” he said instead, clapping Artimer on the back heartily. “We don’t have a lot of time here if we don’t want to be bait.”

Artimer nodded, awed. “Ma’am,” he said respectfully to Laura, who had removed her glasses and was pinching the bridge of her nose. “The Alliance has been perilously misinformed by our intelligence as to your…”

“Genius?” Mal suggested. “We here on Serenity do find President Roslin to have some pretty shiny skills that it’s hard to understate.”

“Definitely,” Artimer said, sounding relieved to have someone else say it. Laura shook her head at them both. “Truthfully, ma’am, you look like a back-country schoolmarm. And now I’m sitting here a believer — you really ought to warn people.”

“Appearances, Mr. Artimer, are vital in my line of work,” Laura said, smiling at Inara, who was on cue with the tea according to their prior agreement. “But let’s get back to our treaty, shall we?”

* * *

It was Jayne who crowed with triumph when the Alliance man brought the approved treaty and placed it in Laura’s hands. Everyone laughed, and Lee found that he was feeling much more comfortable on Serenity now that the discomfort with the Colonial immigration was out in the open. Artimer had been surprisingly forthcoming about the Alliance worries about the fleet — Lee was used to the ways people opened up once they’d fallen under Laura’s spell — and in return, Mal’s people had joined in the discussion.

Lee had shared a few of his father’s milder concerns, but even as he did, more and more of Lee’s own worries were growing. The treaty hammered out had given Laura — well, whoever was “elected” senator, but everyone was well aware that Laura would be elected, and Artimer was already calling her Senator as though they were cozy — all sorts of unusual powers for Colonial leaders.

Considering Laura had almost committed a coup over the Alliance without firing a shot? Lee didn’t blame them. Her performance at the conference table had been the best since she’d forced Tigh to declare martial law, and only a little worse than her return from Kobol.

But at the same time, his father would not be happy that Senator Roslin as viewed as the supreme leader of the Colonial fleet. Lee had intervened a few times to keep his father’s autonomy legally intact and remind them that new elections would have to be conducted, and that even if the outcome was happy, Senator Roslin would still have to stand for presidential election next month and the two positions were **not** the same and maybe would never be.

“Seems awful complicated,” Jayne said, picking his teeth with one of the copies of the treaty. “You all ruttin’ know the lady’s the best man for the job. Whyn’t you just say so and let her be the Senator-President without all the fuss?”

“Because the point is that we have elections,” Laura said. “If we’d wanted a well-meaning dictatorship, we could have had one. We nearly had our own civil war over the question. I can’t just change my mind now.”

Lee was grateful she’d said it; it was clear that the Alliance military viewed him as an intriguing interloper, one that they could use to undermine his wife and make private deals with his father. He was even gladder the Alliance man didn’t know about the baby. But once his father’s authority had been established, Lee let himself space out a little and imagine the happier consequences of the treaty. Senator Roslin was due a planetary estate — a place called Persephone was hosting — and the crew of Serenity would happily work for her or any Colonial elected.

It would be good for her, to be off the front lines of the fleet and away from the war. And they would have a home, and maybe once the baby was born, there would be a nice place for them to retire to.

The secrecy about Laura’s pregnancy was starting to become dangerous. He’d agreed before that the risk required secrecy in the past, but now Laura was about to be a very public figure whom secrets could hurt. Definitely, now was the time to tell Lee’s father about the baby. Cottle had been very quiet about things, but with the first treaties in place, civilians could start going planetside, replenishing supplies in case they decided to go on to Earth, finding communities to settle people, making other political contacts, and so on.

Things were getting better, and watching Laura laugh at Jayne’s boisterous shout, and discuss Persephone with the Companion, Lee thought that maybe he could stand to live in this backwater system after all as long as he had her to come home to.

* * *

The news that there was a treaty had been a mood-lifter for the crew of Galactica, even if they’d rolled their eyes at Alliance incompetence in fighting Cylon raiders. They were going to need lots and lots of help if a basestar showed up, and given Alliance attitudes, much of Galactica didn’t really want to help so much.

However, when Gaeta walked into the showers after a long shift at the CIC, he had news of another kind. Kara could tell — not only did he have the smug smirk of the gossip with good news, little River Tam had perked up at his presence.

“Oh, gods, Lee is in trouble,” Gaeta announced, shucking his jacket. “He’s going to kill the old man yet.”

“Frak me, what now?” Starbuck asked, watching as the little girl from Serenity kept peeking at Gaeta with interest. River Tam, the psychic genius bird-like weapon thing. She was almost staring at Gaeta, as if he were the most interesting thing she’d ever seen.

Then again, River had stared for fifteen minutes at the smoke rising from one of Kara’s cigars, so maybe it was just a nervous tic.

“He told Adama about the baby who’s coming,” River said. “They’re two and a half months pregnant.”

The entire room went silent. Gaeta paused and stared back at River, who smiled and endeavored to look coy and pretty, despite her oversize boots, curtains of hair, and baggy clothes.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

“She’s asked him to keep it quiet, because she thinks its her punishment,” River said very calmly, as if it were common knowledge that Apollo and Roslin were having a baby. “Instead of dying so everyone could get to Earth, she decided to live and now there’s going to be a baby. But that’s just crazy talk. She didn’t lose it. Earth lost itself. If she’d died, she’d just be dead and Earth would still be missing. And we need her to finish the job first.”

Gaeta and Kara blinked, and River smiled uneasily. “Is she serious, Starbuck?” Gaeta asked. “She’s right, but…”

“Far as I can tell,” Starbuck said. “So, that’s the news? Lee knocked the president up? That’s not really all that surprising, given the number of times I…and half of Galactica…have caught those two sneaking off.”

“Little more,” Gaeta replied. “Apollo let his wife get more power than Admiral Adama feels is rightly proper for her to have. But he’s got no say in it, and it was better than the original plan, which was for the Colonials to overthrow the Alliance and put her in charge.”

“Frak,” Starbuck cursed. “Don’t we send Lee with President Roslin to keep her clever political forays from overdoing themselves? I swear, that woman is more trouble than she’s worth.”

“She’s saving the world. It’s hard work and no one else does it better,” River said, scrubbing up, apparently no longer that interested in naked Gaeta. “But it does make the day-to-day kind of frakking hellish.”

Gaeta chuckled. “Read my mind,” he said. “Any other news you have for us, young lady?”

River shrugged and went back to scrubbing up. “None you don’t already know,” she said, grimacing in the mirror. “Hey, Helo.”

Helo waved, a little surprised. “Hey,” he said, smiling. “Do I know her?”

“She knows you,” Kara said, beaming and winking. “So, yeah, I’ll say you know her. Or will, soon enough.”

* * *

Lee had to admit; the Alliance might be corrupt and semi-fascist, but once they’d made a decision, they implemented it scrupulously and more importantly, fast.

“This is a SMALL HOUSE?” Lee cried, looking around the apartment-sized bedroom suite that had been provided for the Colonial Senator. “Ye gods, men, and monsters, you could house every last person on Colonial One here and still have room to spare.”

“I have,” Laura said, looking around her master bedroom with a satisfied expression on her face, despite the distinctly exotic furnishings and decor littering the place. “Well, some of them. Some preferred the so-called servant’s quarters, and some have apartments in the city. And yes, there are still three guest rooms.”

“Gods, my father is going to have a frakking fit when he sees this,” Lee said, looking at the calligraphy on the walls. “Do you know what any of this means?”

“That one is eternity,” Laura said, pointing to one painted in slightly shimmery grey. “Everything else? No idea at all. However, I do know what I like the best about this room.”

Grinning wickedly, she grabbed Lee’s hands and led him to the bed, which would easily fit four full-grown men, and was draped with thin, gauzy curtains around its head. Pillows and cushions covered the silly thing, and the bedspread was heavy red silk and embroidery, though the sheets themselves were cotton and a little bit more sensible.

In short, it was something of a gaudy monstrosity, but one that looked very inviting.

“I haven’t had a decent bed in nearly a year,” Laura said dreamily, falling across the mattress with a sigh of delight. “I am going to enjoy this bed beyond all measure.”

“Despite the blankets and overabundance of pillows?” Lee teased, discovering that he, too, was glad of a mattress when he pinned his unresisting wife to it.

“Oh, that’s the best part,” Laura said with a smile, wriggling. “I intend to make a small fort to hide myself when I’m tired. Also, I’ve heard they’re wonderful weapons.”

Lee laughed, and started kissing Laura everywhere he could, and she started laughing louder, fighting back and tickling as clothes began to disappear.

“I like your bed,” Lee said, discovering that unsurprisingly, they were naked and somewhere closer to the center of the bed now. “It’s very comfortable.”

“Our bed,” she corrected, arms thrown over her head comfortably. “We can share. Unless you snore. Then all bets are off.”

Lee started nuzzling at Laura’s shoulder, hands roaming up and down. “I enjoy sharing with you,” he said, nibbling on a favorite spot on her shoulder. “A bed, this house, sexual favors…”

She swatted him with a pillow, but didn’t seem terribly disapproving of the notion of exchanging sexual favors at all. In fact, there was clear indication that sexual favors from Lee found favor with Mrs. Adama.

“We should lock the door,” Laura said urgently, after the next round of kisses and naked touching.

“Who’s going to walk in?” Lee asked recklessly, and then thought better of it. “Definitely, we should lock the door.”

When he returned to the bed, Lee discovered that his wife was fairly good at the hasty construction of pillow forts.

And even better about sharing a bed, sexual favors, and her feelings while in it.

* * *

Size apparently depended on scale. In truth, the senatorial estate was not large enough to house the passengers of Colonial One, and a hundred or a thousand of the place would fit on Galactica.

And yet, the Colonials took one look at the place and started to bitch. Mal was already bored of it.

“This is a small house?” Admiral Adama complained, clearly very out of sorts as Mal ushered him into the house. “I see that **Senator** Roslin hasn’t yet graced us with her presence, either.”

“Oh, we knocked,” Kaylee said apologetically from the stairs, grimacing. “But that door’s been good and locked all day.”

“Except when the Senator rang for lunch,” Jayne said with a ribald chuckle. “Course, that’s how fat grandchildren get made, ain’t it?”

Mal choked. Admiral Adama half-choked and glared, just as Mal gave Jayne a look that Jayne clearly didn’t get, shrugging it off as casually as he would a complaint about any other attitude that made sense to him.

“What?” Jayne said as Kaylee elbowed him in the ribs. “Anyone ain’t caught these two sneaking off? Or worse? I myself have walked in on an encounter or two, so I’m sure the admiral’s had occasion to see.”

Admiral Adama turned an interesting shade of purple and Mal discovered he admired the man muchly when he did not immediately walk up to Jayne and strangle him. Mal himself would have been hard-pressed if Jayne had started discussing the sex life of his son and the woman he’d married as if they were a sideshow attraction. Hell, Mal occasionally wanted to strangle Jayne on general principle, so for the admiral to remain so calm was a token of the man’s character.

“Could you get them?” Adama asked Mal. “I’m not here on a leisurely visit.”

“Yessir,” Mal said, seizing Jayne as he headed for the stairs and hustled upstairs. “Jayne, you come with me. I’m sure it’s the heat and Miz Roslin’s condition has them sleepy.”

“I’m sure,” Jayne said as they stomped up the stairs. “Mal, what the hell are you talking about? You know as well as I do they ain’t sleepy. Or if they are, it’s because they spent the whole day screwin’.”

“Jayne, that’s the Adama boy’s father,” Mal said. “It’s pretty clear he fancied that woman at one point or another, and it’s not something a man wants to hear in general, that his son’s been spending his day recreating the day of baby-making with a woman he wanted.”

Jayne snorted. “Didn’t tell him about the pillow fort,” he said. “Nor none of the hanky-panky I heard from halfway down the hallway. But you can’t tell me old man doesn’t know why his son and his beloved bride ain’t here to greet ’em.”

Mal groaned — for he was Jayne and there was no known cure — and knocked on the door. “Senator,” he said. “Senator, I hate to trouble you…”

The door opened slightly. “So don’t,” Laura said, looking distinctly rumpled in her hastily tied robe as she peeked out at Mal, hair falling in her face.

“Admiral Adama’s here,” Mal said, elbowing Jayne, who was trying to get a good look in the room. “He’s not so patient today.”

“Bill is always impatient. He can wait a bit longer,” Laura said, sighing. “What time is it?”

“Five-thirty in the afternoon,” Jayne said with a friendly leer. “It’s time to get out of that bed, I think.”

“Ohhhh,” Laura said, mouth shifting with surprise before she covered it with her hand. “Five thirty? Oh, gods, frak, I thought it was only two. Gentlemen, this is what happens when you have a handsome young husband who’s being dragged away from you. Go. Tell Bill that I’m — on my way downstairs.”

The door slammed in their faces. Mal bit his lip so as not to laugh. Jayne chuckled, but as Mal dragged him away, both men quietly shook their heads.

“Now that is one hell of a woman,” Jayne said. “Didn’t quite get it at first, not with that hotshot Starbuck running around, and them fine young women all over the ship. But now — well, I seem to recall them disappearing just after breakfast, so I reckon Captain Apollo knew was he was about after all.”

“Seem to recall you’re right,” Mal agreed. “Suppose it’s to make up for lost time.”

“Yeah, or maybe she’s a witch,” Jayne said. “Pretty husband, power, a nice estate, and I’ve heard tell she’s some kind of holy lady? Can’t hardly be natural, getting all that done in a day.”

“Witch or not,” Mal said as he caught sight of the admiral. “You keep your eyes where they belong when the senator makes her way downstairs, or I ain’t gonna protect you when her or either of those men flay you for looking the wrong way.”

* * *

Captain Reynolds and the goon he ran with returned shortly after they’d dispatched themselves with promises of his son and the senator, and Bill noticed that Jayne was not looking his way.

Spoke well of Reynolds’s skills as a captain in this barbaric outpost of civilization. Jayne was worse than Tigh on a three-day drunk and Starbuck at her worst put together, and Bill would have been hard-pressed not to put the man out an airlock if he’d had him to command.

But there were apologies about the president needing a moment to set herself in order from Reynolds, and Bill took a moment to sigh. So they hadn’t expected the visit, or they’d lost track of time. Bill was expecting the latter, and right on cue, there was Laura, looking radiant, slightly flushed, and a little tousled.

And very, very pleased with herself.

“Laura,” Bill said, taking the president-senator’s hand as graciously as he could. “Where’s my son?”

“Cleaning up,” Laura said, taking his arm and sitting them down on a nearby sofa with a definite smile. “And you need to look happier. Things are going very well here if I got away with spending my whole day with my husband, and you know it.”

Bill, already tired of hearing about the affairs of his son, glowered, and then managed a half-smile. It was reassuring to see Laura in high spirits, and the idea of a grandchild was starting to wear down his disapproval of the marriage.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” he finally asked.

“Given that the chances of miscarriage or birth defect in this pregnancy are astronomically high? I didn’t want to give anyone false alarm,” Laura said defensively. “As you might imagine.”

“So when were you going to mention it to me? Sometime before the birth, I imagine,” Bill said. “Or would that have given me alarm?”

Laura put her arms around herself protectively, and Bill thought he knew a little more about Laura’s state of mind than she was letting on. It wasn’t all happy trysts with Lee and lording it over the Alliance. If Laura could have her way, no one would know about the pregnancy. And they would still be searching for a path to Earth-That-Was, with her nailed to the figurehead of the scout ship and giving directions if need be.

“But I regularly give you alarm, Bill,” she said. “Why change a well-established pattern?”

“Listen to me,” Bill said, putting his hand on her upper arm. “We’re still friends. And this is something I should have known.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” Laura said, her voice going a little strangled and weak. “Not even Lee.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still harboring that foolish notion that this is your fault, aren’t you?” he asked. “How many times are you going to sacrifice yourself for the rest of us, Laura? We’ve found Earth. Or as near as we’ll get until the Cylons are finally put down. You’ve found us a home, and now you’re even going to atone for the heinous sin of living by bringing these poor bastards some kind of decent civilian democracy.”

“Bill, I am not atoning,” Laura said, another wobble in her voice wrecking the effect. “I’m not. And I am happy to be alive.”

Bill shook his head. “Don’t try to convince me,” he said. “Be happy or not. That’s your choice. But I want you to stop blaming yourself because Earth-That-Was wasn’t a fairy-tale ending. It’s not your fault.”

Before Laura could say anything, Lee finally managed to appear, freshly showered and trying not to look abashed in front of a group of guests who knew what he’d spent his day doing.

It effectively ended any kind of decent conversation, especially when Jayne said, very loudly, “You might want to put in some soundproofing in the walls, Captain. Way your wife hollers? It’d be an investment.”

* * *

The Adamas — Bill resolutely, and Lee as reluctantly and slowly as he could — had left three days later, leaving Laura with a skeleton staff of Colonials and a number of new people to cope with her health, pregnancy, and loneliness.

Laura soon discovered that she desperately missed Lee, not just because of the being in love and hating the separation factor. It seemed the only way to keep half the quadrant out of her room in the mornings was to be engaged in a passionate and downright filthy sexual act with her husband.

For example, this morning Mal had dragged Zoe in, looking deeply perturbed about some thing or other he’d found out via Kaylee.

“Well, ma’am, we’re in a pickle,” Mal said, looking at his stoic first officer and shaking his head. “I thought to keep Zoe on as Captain in my absence, but there’s been a snag. You’d heard what happened when we went to Miranda, right?”

“I did,” said Laura, propped up by a number of cushions while sipping at red tea and reading a proposal from a few Gemenon settlers who were on the verge of coming to accommodation on an outer moon of like-minded people. “I’m so sorry, Zoe.”

“Thank you,” Zoe murmured.

“Point being, Senator,” Mal said raising his voice, “Zoe here seems to have a death wish, and that’s not doing no one no good on Serenity. And so I’m asking you a favor.”

“What sort of favor?” Laura asked, putting the tablet down and tapping her stylus against the edge of it restlessly.

“Well, considering your chief political ally and husband’s been packed off to the black for a few months, I’m thinking Zoe would do well as your bodyguard,” Mal said, shifting between the hard glances both women gave him. “Like how Billy’s your chief of staff, and Captain Apollo was your chief…husband. Zoe knows how to follow a man into battle.”

“And is that what Zoe wants?” Laura asked.

“No offense to you ma’am,” Zoe said, glowering at Mal. “But I don’t much fancy managing servants or cooking rice pudding for you.”

“And I don’t much fancy you getting yourself killed from grief,” Mal said emphatically. “Senator needs a solid person here. One who knows the customs already. I ain’t givin’ you up easy.”

Tired and heartsick, Laura looked at Zoe and felt sympathy for the other woman. Clearly, Zoe followed a warrior code, and the loss of her husband had her wishing to follow him into oblivion. And it was terribly ironic that Mal was asking Laura, of all people, to save anyone from a death wish.

“Mal, I think Zoe and I need to speak privately,” Laura said, fixing him with a glare.

“Right,” Mal said, stumbling up. “You do that. I’ll come back soonish to hear how you two’ve decided what arrangement you’re like to take up.”

“Do that,” Zoe said calmly, regarding Laura expressionless as Mal tripped to the door and closed it loudly. “Madam President. Or should I address you as Senator?”

“Oh, frak that,” Laura said. “Truth is, you want to die.”

“Not exactly,” Zoe said with a shrug. “Just don’t see the use in valiantly avoiding it anymore. And there is a war on.”

“There is at that,” Laura agreed, nodding at her tea. “Pour yourself a cup.”

“I suppose that sounds foolish to you,” Zoe said, doing exactly that. “You lost everything and everyone when the Cylons took your worlds and you kept fighting.”

“Not exactly,” Laura said. “The day the Cylons came, I found out I was dying of terminal breast cancer. And not long after that, I found out it was my destiny to find Earth and die. And I did that. I found the map to Earth, and after that, I made my peace with dying. Like you, I wasn’t trying to die — I just wasn’t avoiding it anymore.”

Zoe nodded, a slight narrowing of the eye indicating she was listening closely and not quite liking what she heard.

“And then a man named Baltar gave me to the Cylons and they healed me while taking my visions,” Laura said. “You know how I felt? Glad to be alive. And as you can imagine, I didn’t waste any time. Had Captain Adama in my bed within the week, and had him begging to marry me the next month.”

“Good for you,” Zoe said. “And then?”

“Then I found out there was going to be a baby,” Laura said. “And right after that, we found this system, and I realized I had done a terrible, selfish thing. Instead of finding Earth and sanctuary, I found humans who couldn’t stand against the Cylons without our help. I found out, worst of all, that Earth was gone. And I thought…”

“You think that it’s your fault,” Zoe said. “That you being happy, you living, means you fouled up your prophecy worse. Is that it?”

Laura nodded mutely. “I keep thinking that if I could just die, things will turn out right,” she said. “That the fleet will go to Earth and discover it’s recovered. Will find a way to stop the Cylons for good. That Lee won’t be trapped with an old woman for another forty years.”

“ _Go se_ ,” Zoe said, spitting. “Ma’am, I respect you and your religion, but that’s _fei oo_ and you know it. No God or gods is going to punish a woman for being happy, and if they do, hell with ’em. You don’t need ’em none.”

Laura smiled. “You have your foolishness, I have mine,” she said. “I can’t save you from your grief. Nor would I want to. But I can make you a deal. You keep my foolishness from getting me killed, and I’ll do the same for you, and we can judge each other harshly and mourn over tea.”

Zoe tilted her head, and finally chuckled. “You’re luckier than you know, ma’am,” she said. “I wanted children, for me and Wash. And I’ll add, again, you are full of _go se_. You talk about wishing you’d die, but then you take that young husband of yours and screw him silly for the whole day? You don’t want to die at all. You just want things to have a shiny ending where you don’t have to work so hard.”

“And why not?” Laura asked with a sly smile. “I fought cancer, humanoid-looking robots, terrorists, death threats, Lee’s father, and the whole damn fleet’s disapproval to have my man and my baby. Haven’t I done enough? Why should I have to keep fighting?”

Zoe laughed. “Same reason Mal’s gone from being an outlaw and petty thief to bein’ damn near respectable and a politician,” she said. “You’re the type as craves justice and rightness for everyone and not just your own — a damnfool altruist. Even if you’re better off minding your own business, you have to meddle. So I say, better you meddle for good reason and use that political clout than find yourself with a broken-down Firefly, playing outlaw, ma’am. It’ll keep you occupied while you’re waiting for the baby.”

“So you’ll work for me?” Laura asked, feeling strangely elated at the prospect, or perhaps it was simply confessing her ridiculous secret. “Keep yourself occupied, too.”

“Hell yes, woman,” Zoe said. “No offense to you, but your military’s full of stiffs with sticks up their _pi gu_. I think they deserve Jayne in charge of the ship, and if it doesn’t work out, Mal can find a new crew member to be first officer. We need new ones, anyway, losing my husband and the Shepherd so recently. Cheap bastard was using River for the pilot until Galactica stole her from us.”

“Good,” Laura said. “Now that’s settled, I want you to understand that while I understand the need for a bodyguard, your primary job when you’re working for me is to be my cultural liaison.”

Zoe chuckled, smiling slightly. “Shiny title,” she said mildly.

“It means you have to teach me about this insane culture of yours before I throw up my hands,” Laura said. “I keep finding myself adrift and confused by the nuances. For example, all of you swear in that other language of yours. I have no idea what _go se_ means, for example. Nor what you eat for breakfast in this damn place. Nor why the girl this morning said I shouldn’t wear white.”

“White’s for mourning,” Zoe said. “And the girl this morning isn’t dressing you any more. She makes you look like a dowdy old matron. And that is not how I imagine you want to look.”

“No,” Laura said. “I’m tired of people using the schoolmarm jibe to undermine me politically. I’d rather look like an evil overlord than a mild-mannered schoolteacher in this lions’ den.”

“Good. Trust me to keep you well-dressed,” Zoe said, assessing Laura with a small nod. “And there’s the first thing you can learn to say in Chinese. Xie-xie. Means thank you.”

“Xie-xie,” Laura said, stumbling over the words. “Thank you, Zoe.”

* * *

None of this, of course, quite fit into a child’s bedtime story without much editing and judicious metaphor. Lee was well aware that much of the story was beyond Ben’s comprehension, such as the private despair Laura had felt at failing to find Earth, instead happening upon the Alliance system and a fermenting revolution that dragged her back into politics.

Not that Zoe had been wrong, Lee thought as Laura grimaced at her appearance in the mirror. His wife was a damnfool altruist who couldn’t help but meddle.

And he loved her madly because of it.

“Is he asleep?” Laura asked, applying the tiniest bit of lipstick.

“Asleep and dreaming,” Lee said. “You ready to dazzle your enemies and support President Keikeya in his first public appearance on Persephone, Senator Roslin?”

“Always,” Laura said. “After all, the drawing rooms of Persephone were how I learned how to manipulate political gain in this system, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Lee asked. “Do **you** remember when I came home when you were announcing your ‘confinement’ just before Ben was born? That gown you were wearing!”

Laura laughed. “It was when I was doing war by fashion,” she said. “And eating lots of strawberries and cream and red bean paste.”

“I remember,” Lee said fondly, opening the door. “If there’s one night I’ll never forget, it’s the one where I finally came home to you…”

 


End file.
